Dolly Parton may have been country to her core, but for a glittering stretch of her rise to stardom, the Tennessee songbird brought a little bit of the Smoky Mountains to Fifth Avenue.

Her unlikely Manhattan roommate? Her gay manager and close confidant Sandy Gallin — the powerhouse talent manager who also represented Michael Jackson and Cher — a living arrangement Parton later summed up perfectly.

“He’s gay — he had one end of the house and I had the other,” Parton told the New Yorker in 2009. “We were like Will and Grace.”

Though in Parton and Gallin’s version, “Will” apparently did the decorating.

For years, Parton and Gallin shared a Fifth Avenue pied-à-terre, a Manhattan home base that neither occupied full time. Vanity Fair was still describing it as the Fifth Avenue apartment the pair shared when the magazine interviewed Parton there in 1996.

The apartment was reportedly at 800 Fifth Ave., a luxury rental tower overlooking Central Park at East 61st Street, where no units are presently available, according to StreetEasy.

And despite Parton’s rhinestone-studded, larger-than-life aesthetic, the place was far more Sandy than Dolly.

“Everything you see is Sandy’s taste,” Parton told the New York Times during a 1979 visit to what the newspaper described as her New York “office-apartment.”

Parton said she had personally chosen only “the bed and the piano.”

Gallin furnished the place and assembled its contemporary art collection, introducing the self-described country girl to a decidedly more highbrow Manhattan aesthetic.

“What little dab of culture I have is because of Sandy,” Parton later told Vanity Fair, describing the two of them as “burlap and satin, Tennessee and Manhattan!”

The aerie even appeared in a 1980 episode of CBS’ “Country People,” which showed the typical trappings of luxury decorations from that era — among them round glass tables, maximal floral wallpaper and a massive cushioned headboard for her bed that made a true statement.

The apartment was more than a glamorous crash pad.

Parton and Gallin used it as a hybrid home and workplace where she could conduct business, make music and entertain industry friends without the formality of a traditional office.

Most of its wall space was even covered in sound-absorbing fabric, according to the Times.

There was just one problem: It apparently wasn’t enough to contain Dolly.

“We play music too loud and we’ll probably get thrown out that window,” Parton predicted to the Times while working on a new album.

Parton said she respected the neighbors, but sometimes forgot about them after cranking up a track and contemplating whether it needed horns or strings.

Then, as she put it, she would suddenly remember that “the neighbors don’t particularly want horns.”

The shared pad also came with one amenity that made the Tennessee native feel a little more at home: Central Park.

From high above Fifth Avenue, Parton could look out over its sprawling greenery — a little patch of country in the middle of Manhattan. After all, she grew up in a humble two-room cabin in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee — a tiny home that still stands, and which she shared with her parents and 11 siblings.

800 Fifth Ave. is a towering structure with 208 units, per StreetEasy.

Completed in 1979, the building sits directly across from Central Park and just blocks from the Plaza Hotel. It remains a rental nearly five decades later — though living at Dolly’s alleged old address doesn’t come cheap.

Recent listings include a 1,475-square-foot two-bedroom that last asked $16,000 a month before going off the market in August 2025. A 1,025-square-foot one-bedroom asked $10,000, while a sprawling 2,040-square-foot three-bedroom sought $22,500 a month.

Parton’s road to a Fifth Avenue address had started considerably less glamorously.

She first came to New York in 1964 on a senior-class trip from Sevier County High School, according to the New Yorker. It was her first stay in a hotel — and included her first, and apparently only, subway ride.

A return trip with her best friend Judy Ogle in 1970 went even worse.

The pair stayed near the then-seedy 42nd Street and quickly discovered their flamboyant clothes attracted plenty of attention.

“We were overdressed — lookin’ like I do now, we did look like trash, and so we looked the part,” Parton recalled to the New Yorker.

After one man pushed her against a wall — prompting Parton, who was carrying a gun, to threaten to shoot him if he touched her again — she and Ogle headed for the airport.

“We just went to the airport,” Parton said. “We swore we’d never come back to New York.”

That vow clearly didn’t stick.

By the end of the decade, Parton had gone from fleeing 42nd Street to looking down on Central Park from her Fifth Avenue digs.

Her roommate era with Gallin lasted for years. The 1996 Vanity Fair profile found Parton sitting in the living room of the Fifth Avenue apartment they shared, while Gallin’s 2017 obituary in the magazine described the apartment as his only longstanding residence.

And even after the pair’s real-life “Will and Grace” arrangement ended, Parton kept her own foothold in the Big Apple.

By 2009, she told the New Yorker she had an apartment of her own on York Avenue.

There was just one problem with her Manhattan perch.

“It’s on a high floor, and I get a little leery,” she admitted.

Despite having her own place in Manhattan, Parton sometimes preferred sleeping across the Hudson River on her tour bus parked in Newark, she told the magazine.

Naturally, this was no ordinary bus: It came equipped with a mirrored wig closet and a refrigerator stocked with homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Only Dolly could have a home high above Manhattan — and sometimes decide she’d rather sleep in New Jersey.